Marlitt_Countess_Gisela.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
in addressing the other
man. hands were folded together on his
breast. his heart he was praying that she
might regain consciousness, and recognize him,
before the end.
" , may this grace be vouchsafed to
me "
ran his prayer.
. was not unskilled in his own science,
and he did not jjray for her recovery. ,
thought he, would be a miracle. man can
not hope for a miracle. did not occur to him
that any special answer to special prayer must be
miraculous. human heart is complex and
illogical, and deduces many contradictory infer-
ences from the simplest premise. an hour
passed. there came a ring at the door,
which sounded with jjainful metallic vibrations
through the hushed house.
" will go down and see them," sr.id the phy-
sician, divining who the early visitors must be,
and not sorry to leave a scene in which he could
be of no use.
" must not be disturbed," said . ,
still without moving or changing the fixed direc-
tion of his glance. other nodded, and
noiselessly left the room. hired nurse sat,
with closed eyes, in a chair in a distant corner
of the room. was not fully asleep ; but she
took a measure of repose in the half-waking fash-
ion rendered fomiliar by her avocations.
was a muffled sound of feet below ; the closing
of a door then all was still.
the surgeon's gaze, instead of look-
ing on closed, violet-tinted eyelids, with their
heavy black fringe, met a pair of wide-open, hag-
gard eyes, that looked strange, but not wild:
there was speculation in them.
". !"
whispered sound of his own uncouth name
was like music in his ears. the night she
had been calling on , begging him to save
her from that other ; imploring hina to give her
a drink of water ; ajjpointing an hour for him to
meet her in the ; always associating
him with some terror or trouble. had spok-
en in ; but her husband's namQ|fcand
one or two other words, had sufficed to g^ the
watcher an idea of the images that fiUed her poor
fevered brain.
" dearest," he answered.
feebly moved her hand, and he took it in
his own. closed her eyes for a moment, as
though to signify that that was what she had de-
sired him to do.
she opened her eyes again, and looking
at him with a terrible, wide stare, whispered,
" die?"
heart was wrung with a bitter agony as
he saw her plaintive, pleading face, full of the
vague terror of a frightened child. pressed
her hand gently, and stroked the matted hair
from her forehead. tried to speak comfort
to her. it was in vain. could not tell
her a lie.
"'t let me die! am very young. 't
get better ? , can't get better ? am so
afraid ! me with you. my hand.
't let me die '
' ' 1 only love calm !
pity on me. "
", but am afraid. is so dreadful to
to die!"
hid her face against his hand, and moan-
ed and murmured a little incoherently.
" , have mercy upon her!" sobbed
the surgeon. as he sobbed he was careful
to suppress the convndsive heaving of his chest,
as far as it was in his power to command it, lest
it should shake the hand she clung to.
she moved her head enough to enable
her to look up at him. " are good," she
said. ' ' can pray. v.ill hear you.
17i
.
he ? will he hear you ? yes, yes ; yon
and . and you and
you see that tombstone in . 's grave-
yard ? dreamed once that was going to mar-
ly you, and he started out from behind the tomb-
stone to prevent it. was a dream.
the tombstone is there : white, all white on the
turf. 't you see it?"'
' ' ! you hear me ?"
" . . . !
loved me. it you ?"
" loved you. love you. !
you think you can pray? "
" 0-h-h-h ! 'm afraid! if you say if
you say it will try."
uttered a short prayer.
" you forgive all those wlio have done you
wrong?"
"! am very sorry. am sorry.
hope they will forgive me. ; forgive."
" darling, let me kiss you. are not
in pain ?"
" -no. is so dark now! old yew-
tree shades the window too much. we shall
go away where there is more light, sha'n't we ?
won't stay here."
" will go where there is more light, my
treasure. your dear head on my arm, be-
loved. . are not frightened now ?"
" frightened now ; tired so tired!
dark the yew-tree makes the window ! !"
gave a long, quivering sigh, and dropped
her head quite down upon his hand.
they came to see if the sufferer could be
spokBi to, they found him standing, rigid, with
her migers clasped in his. raised his hand
to warn them to be silent as they entered.
" must not be disturbed!" he whispered.
" " echoed the physician, advancing
hastily. " will never be disturbed more.
dear , you must compose yourself. feel
for 3'our grief were evidently much at-
tached to the unfortunate lady. there is no
more to be done she is dead !"
years later there arrived in ,
from the , an a he
called himself who was supposed by those who
understood such matters to be mixed up with
certain political movements, of a republican tend-
ency, in the . was an agent of ]-
ni, said one. was a rich adventurer, who
had been a filil)uster, said another. was a
mere chevalier d'industrie, declared a thi-d, and
the speaker remembered his face in more than
one capital of ])e. he had been
attracted to the neigliborhood of by its
recent elevation to the rank of a metropolis.
it might be that he had made too hot
to hold him.
night there was a disturbance at a low
cafd in , near the port, frequented chief-
ly by sailors. man was stabbed to the
heart, and his assassin, a certain of in-
famous character, named , was con-
doinncd to the galleys for life.
the murdered man little was known.
landlord of the cafe' deposed that lie had entered
liis house togetiier with the , the latter
spcming more boastfully insolent and elated than
was his wont; that he (the landlord), perceiving
that the stranger was of a different class to the
generality of his customers, was induced by cu-
riosity to pay some attention to his conversation
(in other words, to listen at the door of the mis-
erable room occupied by the ) ; that he
had heard the two men quarreling, and the
especially insisting on a large sum of money, re-
iterating over and over again that twenty "thou-
sand francs was a cheap price to let him" off at.
supposed there had been a struggle, for he
had soon heard a scuffling noise, and the voice
of crying out that he should not serve
him as he had served his wik had got as-
sistance, and broken open the door. stran-
ger was dead : st^ibbed to the heart. vuole ?
! had tried to esca])e by
the window, but was too great a coward to jump.
they caught him. was all he knew.
!
murdered man was known in as
. there was more than one
distinguished noble who could have given a dif-
ferent name to him. they never thought of
doing so. man was dead. had been
sundry unpleasant circumstances connected with
his history. would it not have been ex-
ceedingly inconvenahle to stir up sucii disagree-
able recollections, to the annoyance of a really
illustrious family, who had become
quite the leaders of society since their influx of
wealth from the sale of some projierty to an -
glish company that afterward went to smash ?
, che ! let by-gones be bj'-gones !
de' sleeps in a pauper's
grave, and his own people know his name no
more.
was not told of 's tragic fate
until some weeks after her marriage her hus-
band feeling that it would cast a deep gloom
over the early brightness of their wedded life.
grief, when she knew the truth, was sincere
and intense. her only consolation was as
she often said to the poor surgeon to know that
her dear girl had died with his loving hand in
hers, and had not been quite lonely and aban-
doned at the last.
vicar's affliction was more demonstrative,
but briefer, than 's. soon had troubles
enough in the present to prevent his brooding
over the past. young wife speedily discov-
ered the anomalous nature of her position : not
received by the gentry, and looked on with cold
jealousy by those of her own class. became
fretful and slatternly, and turned out to have a
shrewish tongue, and to be energetic in the-using
of it. her vulgar family established them-
selves in the vicarage, and lorded it over the
vicar as only the callousness of vulgarity can.
left her old master with regret.
, as she said, she could not stand being crow-
ed over by . . faithful old wo-
man went to live with ^Irs. ,
whose children especially a bright-eyed little
girl, named she spoiled with supreme
sntisfaction to herself, and unler tlie delusion
that her discipline was in its rigor.
inherited a trifling legacy from a
bachelor uncle, who was a tradesman in ;
on the strength of which legacy she set up a day-
school for the children of small shop-keepers, and
such jiersons. she was very gentle, very hon-
est, and very industrious, she prospered.
.
1]
never married ; ami slio and . continued i suburban cemetery. of these visits lie never
fast friends to the end of their days,
the little surgeon if these pages have suc-
ceeded in iiortraying him as he was it need not
he said that his lite continued to he one of huin-
hlc usefidiiess and activity. was never mer-
ry, and seldom to outward observation at least
sad. a year he made a pilgrimage to
, where he visited a lonely tomb in a
spoke.
it was observed in him that, wliile he was
always kind and gentle to all children, he was
especially attacheil to one of 's little girls.
lie always gave her the uncouth name she
had bestowed upon herself in her baby efforts to
talk ! and he never called her !